Chronicles of death
by Angelic-Shadowcat
Summary: Thirteen short stories portraying different ways of the aspect of death. Be warned by the rating though, it might not be enough....
1. Warrior at peace

**Chronicles of death**

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****Chapter 1: A warrior at peace

Staggering, as her vision swam, the feathered girl came very close to crashing into a tree. Her steps were unsteady, her body trembling, her hands numb. Soundlessly, her legs gave way, and she came into contact with the rich, if slightly damp grass. The girl could not muster the strength to push herself upwards, and lay there, panting, breaking out in a sweat, her eyes glistening as the pain increased. 

Slowly, painfully slowly, the young lady eased herself onto her side, bringing her delicate, soft hand to her chest, and plucked a small feathered dart that had lodged itself somewhere in her upper left region of her abdomen. A drop of green landed in the grass, and a slight hissing could be heard as it touched the once lively vegetation. Peering at the blades, the female was not surprised to see the blades withering, having turned a dull yellow colour. Closing her eyes, the creature- who was only remotely human- was resigned for the worst fate. That dart had concealed poison, undoubtedly, and a very quick one at that. Good... 

But even in the worst of situations, she managed a faint smile, recalling the past few hours that she had just spent, thrilled with the chase, pleased and proud by the feat she had previously accomplished. Images of the concrete complex flashed in her mind, and her smile became a grin as she knew the entire building had been reduced to rubble, thanks to her. She had freed her own kind, an anthropomorphic kind, at the expense of her life... 

Her rustic shaded wings began to sag, and she felt every nerve in her limbs throb. Wincing, she bit her tongue in order to keep herself in check, to stop herself from crying out. She could feel her own bones being weakened by the toxic liquid that had infiltrated her metabolism, could sense it tearing her apart from the inside out, as it steadily worked itself through her system. It killed the red blood cells, and her breathing was reduced to painful gasps. A wretched coughing fit gripped her, and more blood was spilt, tainting the pleasant soft cover the vegetation provided for her. Colour drained, her face turning a sort of ashen shade, tinged with green. Loosing focus, the trees surrounding her began to sway uncontrollably, even though not a breeze tickled their leaves. The torturing pursued, however, and the experience was like a million sharp knives, heated, sawing into your skin, burning, cutting, ripping tender flesh, revealing yet more of the precious red liquid, so essential for life. 

The smirk had been wiped off her face for quite a while, ever since she had been writhing with pain. There wasn't a moment where she was spared from some sort of harm, whether it was in her now aching legs, as the muscles all but dissolved, or her back, which was pure agony as bones literally melted inside her own body. The effect of the poison was horrendous, and the bird hybrid was now doubled upon herself, trying to ease her body but only succeeding in making it worse. 

With a final gasp- a gasp mixed with triumph and realisation- Monori Rinyanra was wrenched from life itself, and sent sky-high on wings that no longed ailed her. She was no longer a troubled Rocket renegade, but a free soul. 

Monori had died, at the hands of evil. 


	2. Hanging on a thread of despair

**Chronicles of death**

A/N

Well... I didn't realise it would be- popular. So, er, these will be short stories and-

Oh, just let me answer the reviews!

BansheeGirl: Wow? Cool. Thank you. ) Elaboration? Myu, I hope short stories fit that criteria!

SierraLou: ... Yay? I hoped it would have some sort of strange effect. Mmm, yep, every chapter will be sad and death-related. Heh.

Fierystreak: YES! It's great to be writing something short. Because I'm such a terrible procrastinator! Gah. Nah, I don't suspect I'll take it any further than multiple scenes of death in thirteen different ways.

And I'll reply soon, honest. I just can't think up something intelligent to say to your Rhydon Trainer. Gah with brass knobs.

Anyway, I should really update this fic every Sunday. But as mentioned above, I'm a procrastinator. So smoosh me.

Oh, and I don't own Pokémon. Except for my O.T characters. And- yeah.

Chapter 2: Hanging on a thread of despair

A roar. A terrible, ear-shattering roar echoed in the cavern. His fingers, stinging and bloody, could hardly keep him hanging. They were trembling in despair, trembling in fear, trembling in weakness. It pained the young man to know that somewhere above him were his friends, and somewhere below him was certain death. And he was hanging by a thread. He let his first whimper escape him, and dared not look down. He could feel the heat rising, and undoubtedly knew that the lava was also increasing. It was becoming rather hot really, but he was already sweating out of fear.

Somewhere above him were his two friends. And a savage and furious undefined monster that had an insatiable thirst for blood. This very place had been the mythical beast's lair, and it hadn't take kindly to prying intrepid trainers. But he was certain that the prophecy spoke of curse that lasted ten thousand years if the beast could not be soothed. The only way to calm the tempest of rage that had gripped the large fire-breathing creature, he had discovered, was to spill innocent blood.

He had lost two other partners to date, so his face was already wet, and tear-streaked. Ash gave him a grubby appearance, and his brown locks were sticking to his sweaty neck and brows. They had had to cross a wooden plank bridge, and as he had come very close to the other side, it had given way. He had been left there, left there to muse over the fate of his friends, because his lady companions had been confronted with the terrible beast in question.

A shrill scream sounded and the lad had voiced his protests. In vain. No one could hear him at that point in time, no one cared. They were focused on one simple concept: living and killing. There was no way to climb up the broken bridge, and his fingers started to slip. He tried calling out, desperately hoping his friends would come to his aid, but no game.

A triumphant yes echoed unnaturally, and the boy was caught off-guard. Had they perhaps succeeded in taming the creature? But it's continuous roaring indicated that- no, it hadn't been finished off. A pokéball's distinctive ping proceeded the monosyllable that had raised my hopes, and a pokémon's war-cry followed. It was a Charizard, and not just any fire-breathing Dragon. It was Nanazaïka's first and most powerful pokémon: Charcoal. A command was issued, and the two titans engaged in fatal combat. A gasp of fright sounded, so the boy assumed that the Charizard was loosing. Already?

**"There is only one way to win this fight!"**

A scream of protest. A long, drawn out shriek which denied what was going to happen next. He knew, when the courageous girl's voice had sounded, what she was planning to do, and he was flailing. Perhaps hoping that she would stop in time, and see him, and help him back up. He didn't want her to, she wouldn't, she was tearing him in half. The mere thought of loosing her made him want to give up his own life.

But the sight of her body, flying past his in a downwards fashion put a stop to his suicidal thoughts. The molten fire rock had been mounting considerably, and as the young lad stared downwards he could see her collision course. A sound of yelling reached his ears, the girl's yelling. Triumphant? No. It sounded like one tinged with despair, one lined with pain. A voice that knew nothing but total suffering. There was no other way to end.

He closed his eyes, but he couldn't block out the hissing sound that her body made when it came into contact with the volcanic lava. Nor could he ignore the smoke rising. In a matter of seconds, Charcoal's roar of utter denial rang out, striking the young man in the heart. The fire pokémon had completely devoted it's life to it's trainer, and now that she had thrown herself into the chasm of death, there was nothing else to do...

But follow her.

A distinct orange body sailed past the boy, and he had to turn his head. He wished he could erase what he had just seen, it was mentally torturing him. To see bodies melting into the lava, to see his friends being torn and ripped apart, shredded like they were nothing more than leaves in autumn, was as soul-wrenching as actually dying itself. He wished he could let go, too, but Dyanna was still up there. Besides, he couldn't brave death. Not like Nana' had just done, not like her devoted fire Dragon.

There was silence, and he knew the beast was retreating. He stared upwards, and a bloodied figure appeared at the top, her blonde hair unable to conceal the tears that trickled relentlessly down her face. It was just like rain, and splatters of it landed on his own features. But no matter what she did or what she said, she could not soothe him. Even rain could not put out that fire, torrents of it would not tame the wild lava, or the blood-craving beast. So finally, with four innocent victims, it had deemed itself quenched and had left for hibernation.

The boy was hoisted up, and when he was on solid ground he embraced his young lady friend, his only remaining friend. His body trembled with the emotion, his mind sought solace but could not find a way to end. He wished to stop himself, there and then, to simply switch himself off, to sleep his life away...

He wanted to die, but he would be a coward if he fled life like that.

Whereas Nanazaïka, Charcoal, Nathan and Jess passed away as heroes preserving mankind.


End file.
